When at length he left the house, he walked without seeing anything, stumbling against things and people.
Of course, he knew last night that there was no journey for him to-day.
Promise?
A promise is void when its fulfilment has become impossible.
Very likely Mallard had a conviction that he would not come back at the appointed time.

To-morrow, perhaps; and perhaps not even to-morrow It had got beyond his control.
He ate, and returned to his room.

Just now his need was physical repose, undisturbed indulgence of reverie.

And the reverie of a man in his condition is a singular process.

It consists of a small number of memories, forecasts, Imaginings, repeated over and over again, till one would think the brain must weary itself beyond endurance.